Summary: Elisif's away and Madanach's in charge at Skyhold... and surprisingly, everyone seems to be behaving. However, Madanach's first real test comes in the form of some Avvar visitors with business to settle - and it seems these particular Avvar are kin to more than just Nords, as Madanach's knowledge of Reach-lore and Liriel's own research bear unexpected fruit.

A/N: I've revisited the Avvar-Nord-Reachman links from the Fallow Mire and this is the result, covering the Tyrdda Bright-Axe war table operation plus Movran's arrival. Readers will be pleased (disappointed?) to know I had him take a more diplomatic approach to the 'a redhaired mother guarantees a brat' line. I didn't fancy starting a fight with him and Madanach, or making Maia cry for that matter.


Madanach for his part was doing just fine back at Skyhold. There were orders to give, requisitions to approve, rotas to authorise, war table operations to look at, all sorts of things to do to keep him busy… and he loved it. Everyone called him sir, everyone saluted when he passed, and it was slowly dawning on him that Deputy Inquisitor wasn't some honorary title his wife had given him to keep him busy but that it actually meant something.

Even if it did mean dealing with Orlesians. And their over the top outfits and those creepy masks and never entirely saying what they meant. Fortunately, he rarely met with the nobles without Josephine present, and Josephine assured him the non-nobles, usually merchants and traders, would forgive any minor mis-steps on the Deputy Inquisitor's part. All the same, he made a point of bringing Maia. The presence of a small child had the ability to disarm just about everyone as they all started exclaiming how cute she was. La petite mignonne, he later found out from Vivienne, was definitely a compliment.

He'd just finished talking with Bonny Simms, the Orlesian merchant queen who'd lent her entire guild's resources to ensuring the Inquisition's supplies and procurement needs were met, when Cassandra came running.

"Madanach! Come quickly, you are needed. An entire company of Avvar have just arrived, and they're attacking!"

"They're what-" Madanach began, having heard from Elisif that the Avvar were displaced Nords who recognised her as Dovahkiin, and while they might not be automatic allies, he'd also got the impression Skywatcher would be telling a story of Elisif the Dragonborn Hero, here to fix the tears in Kyne's skin, not conquer the Avvar. And then it occurred to him that he couldn't hear the sounds of battle. No magic, no screaming, no smell of fire.

"They got to the keep without anyone bothering to tell us we had an invading army on our hands?" Madanach snapped, ready to wring Cullen's neck if that was true… but Cassandra looked sheepish.

"It is not exactly an army," Cassandra admitted. "We outnumber them. No doubt it was thought they were just mercenaries coming to pledge their arms to us."

"So they, what, held their blades against a relatively easy to pillage army camp and decided to draw arms on getting to the massive stone fortress with steel gates? Cassandra, that makes no sense," Madanach sighed, falling into step next to her, for the moment heedless of Maia glancing at Silvie and then chasing after them.

"I never said it was orthodox," Cassandra said, scowling. "They're attacking with a goat. We know they have mages, and they live outside the Chantry laws. Who knows what mischief they intend?"

"Attacking with a..." Because Madanach's people kept goats as their main livestock animals, and the goats also served as watchers and pets. A community's wealth was measured in the size of its goat flocks. You didn't risk them in war. But if you wanted to make peace with a community, bringing one of your own goats and offering it as a sacrifice at their gates was a sign you meant no harm and wished to negotiate.

"They're not here to fight," Madanach realised, breaking into a run. "Where are Cullen and Josephine? We'll need them."

"Commander Cullen is already at the gatehouse, and we've sent for Josephine – there she is."

Josephine was making her own way to the gatehouse, Borkul at her back.

"I swear, Borkul, I don't know what they expect me to tell them about Avvar customs, because I don't know them," Josephine sighed. "From what I've heard they respect military strength above all – you'd be more likely to get a hearing than me."

"I ain't got the patience for negotiation, you know that," Borkul sighed. "I let the boss handle all that – look, there he is."

"My lord!" Josephine gasped, blushing a little and nearly dropping her clipboard. "My lord, I don't know what you've been told but..."

"Band of marauding Avvar wanting a fight," Borkul said, shrugging. "They want one, they got one. Don't think you need Josie for that."

"They're not after a fight, they brought a goat," Madanach snapped. "Come on, all of you with me, I need to talk to them."

"A… goat?" Josephine asked, glancing at Cassandra and Borkul both. Cassandra knew no more than Josephine but Borkul wasn't at all surprised.

"They're prize livestock not weapons of war," Borkul told them, managing to avoid rolling his eyes at two people who'd lived in cities all their lives. "They're kind of currency, you know? It's like if someone turned up at your house and started throwing gold coins at it. Sure, it might break a window but you can't call it a bad thing."

Cassandra just grunted at him, but Josephine actually looked thoughtful.

"That makes an awful lot of sense," Josephine sad, quickening her pace. "So we need to find out who they are and why we might be at odds with them in the first place. I have a feeling the first question may answer the second."

Madanach was already passing through the main gatehouse, sprinting across the bridge to the outer courthouse where Inquisition soldiers were facing off against a group of Avvar warriors, who were brandishing weapons… but not actually attacking, and this despite Cullen and Knight-Captain Rylen attempting to wrestle their chief into a set of shackles.

"Stand down!" Madanach shouted. "Cullen, let him go!"

"Let him – Madanach, he's sacrificing a goat for Maker knows what blood magic!" Cullen cried. Madanach rubbed his forehead, because while that could indeed be done, it required rituals and spells he'd be able to sense, and he was seeing none of that here. Only a goat with its throat cut, blood pooling out on the stonework.

"Cassandra, do what you can about any magic in the air," Madanach sighed. "Cullen, he's not doing any blood magic. I'd know if he was. This is just a ritual sacrifice, although I'm aware it's not without meaning. Let him go and then let me talk to him."

"On your orders, Deputy Inquisitor," Cullen said, gritting his teeth and offering no comment on just how Madanach would recognise blood magic when he saw it. But he nodded to Rylen, and Rylen unlocked the shackles and stepped back.

The Avvar chief smirked at Cullen and Rylen both as he massaged his wrists and stood up, and after a brief nod from him, the Avvar guards, men and women both from the look of it, put their weapons away.

"My thanks," the Avvar said, smiling and Madanach had to crane his head to look up at him. Something in the accent reminded him of Ulfric Stormcloak, and given the man was heavily bearded and looked to be about six foot four, the physical resemblance was there too. But he wasn't wearing the clothes of a fine Nord noble, but the leather and fur you'd see more of on a Reachman… including a headdress with goat horns on it. And if Madanach was right, he shared at least one custom in common with the Reachmen too.

Madanach indicated the goat.

"You've come a long way to sacrifice one of your prize animals at our gates," Madanach said, already thinking of a dozen different uses for the goat's corpse – most of which were utterly superfluous to a well-stocked Inquisition. But the meat would do for eating, and maybe he could get one of those Orlesian taxidermists to stuff the animal and turn it into a toy for Maia to ride. "Might I know your name and business with us?"

"His name's Movran the Under," Cullen said tersely, indicating the Avvar chief, who spared Cullen the barest glance. "He's the chief of that tribe that tried to kill the Herald. I imagine he's probably here to avenge his son."

Movran made no answer, only smirking at Cullen in a way that suggested he found Cullen's words hilarious. Madanach glanced at the goat again, wondering why a bereaved father would be here offering peace rather than demanding blood-price.

"Was it weregild you were after?" Madanach said, deliberately using the Nordic word and then revising his opinion at the confusion on Movran's face. "You know, keteen."

As he'd thought, the Reachman word made his eyes light up, but Movran, despite the smile, shook his head, and Madanach guessed that he'd hardly be here sacrificing a goat if he thought the Inquisition owed him.

"Hardly," Movran laughed. "My son lies dead but I have others, sons with brains still in their heads! My youngest was sent to fight Tevinters encroaching too close to our borders, after our augur told us they meant ill. Then he heard tales of a Herald of Andraste with the Voice of the Lady, and decided to pick a fight. Had he won, we'd have drunk to his triumph… but his failure confirms that your Herald is worthy. Tell me, does she truly have the Voice?"

"She does," Madanach confirmed, feeling the tension relax as he realised Movran's sole purpose for being here was to tell them 'no hard feelings'. "She's not here right now, she's got business in Ferelden, but she'll be interested to hear you visited. She knew your people were her kin."

"I've got the Voice!" Maia chirped from behind him, which was a surprise to Madanach because he hadn't realised she'd followed him… but he'd also not told her to stay behind, he realised just a little too late. So of course she'd come out here.

Movran's eyes slid down to the tiny five year old, and he raised an eyebrow to see her there, before kneeling down to get a better look at her.

"Have you now," he said, amused. "You cannot be the Herald. I was told she was taller. If you felled my son, then his death deserves to be forgotten."

"No, that wasn't me, that was Mama," Maia said, clutching Frogella and looking a bit nervous. "He challenged her to a fight and said he'd hurt Inquisition soldiers if she said no. So she went and she took Alistair too, and Blackwall and Dorian and Varric, and they won! And she rescued the soldiers and came back to tell us all the story… only I suppose that means he's in Sovngarde now."

Maia looked rather awkward as she finished up, because while she didn't really have a problem with bad people dying, it was a different matter saying this to the dead man's father.

She needn't have worried.

"Perhaps he is," Movran said cheerfully. "It's a better end than he deserved. So, you are the Herald's Little Dragon, are you? And you have the Voice as well?"

Maia nodded, glancing uncertainly up at her father. Madanach decided to intervene at this point.

"She does, but her mother and I have agreed she mostly doesn't use it. She doesn't need to fight, she has us."

Maia edged nearer Madanach, smiling up at him, and Madanach ruffled her hair. Movran saw this, raised his eyebrows approvingly, and got to his feet.

"So you are her father. And the Herald's husband. Whose orders the others follow. And yet your title's the lesser one. He called you Deputy Inquisitor. I know enough of lowlanders to know that's a title that answers to her. It doesn't bother you?"

Madanach just shrugged. He'd never really seen the sense of restricting power by gender.

"Should it? She's the one everyone thinks was sent by Andraste, no one here really trusts mages, it makes sense for her to lead and me to handle the administration in her absence. Also she can breathe fire. You don't argue with a woman who can breathe fire!"

That made Movran laugh.

"True enough! And my second wife had red hair too – I know what that usually involves. I hope your little one turns out wiser than my youngest did."

From the knowing look on Movran's face, Madanach guessed the Avvar shared the same view of redheads the Reachmen did – prone to impulsive acts and loss of temper, mainly because red hair was most commonly found among Nords.

Of course, this particular belief was spoken rather more quietly since he'd married a redhaired Nord and produced a similarly redhaired child. He'd guessed Movran had seen Maia's hair and decided discretion might be the best possibility here.

"She's very bright and everyone says she's very sweet-natured. I'd say that's mostly true, and when it's not, she probably got it from me," Madanach said, stepping aside and indicating for Movran to accompany him into Skyhold. "Come on, you've come a long way, why not stay here for a few days? Enjoy Skyhold's hospitality. Josephine, you've got some empty rooms since the Fereldans left, right?"

"We do but… I confess I'm not sure what an Avvar chief would expect in the way of hospitality," Josephine said nervously. She needn't have worried. Movran assured his people only needed warm beds, hearty meals and a ready supply of mead.

"We can bed down in your hall," Movran said cheerfully. "We are Avvar. We don't need soft lowlander comforts."

One or two of his guards sagged visibly on hearing that, but they all cheered up when Josephine assured them she could certainly guarantee a plentiful supply of ale.

"Give them the good stuff, they'll declare war if we make them drink the dwarven," Madanach murmured in her ear. Josephine promised to see what she could do.

And so it was the Great Hall became home to a dozen Avvar flinging bedrolls down in it, much to the horror of all the Orlesian nobles and hangers on who used the place as a social hub, and Madanach settled at a table with Movran the Under and a flagon of ale each.

"This'll do, right?" Madanach asked, topping Movran's flagon up. "It's hardly Nirnroot Jenever but I'm told it's OK."

Movran took a swig, let out an appreciative burp and wiped his lips clean.

"Ah, that hit the spot. Your Inquisition feasts well! The gods themselves would trade Nenaroot Hjenafir for this. If only it were real. I'd trade much for a drink that sang to me."

"I'll get you some one day," Madanach promised, amused. "Although singing is an overstatement. It's just chimes. But it is real. And… you've heard of a plant that doesn't grow on Thedas. A plant that's pretty fucking difficult to miss. By the gods. You people really did come from Tamriel once. And you've even got a word for jenever – a Nordic word. The Nords back home never bothered adopting it as a loan-word. They just call it witch-brew."

"Ach, tell them I'll meet them on Hakkon's Field over it," Movran laughed, and then he processed what else Madanach had said. "By the Lady, you are not joking, are you. Skywatcher spoke true! You people aren't lowlanders, are you. Not like the others. He said you were our kin from across the sea. That you spoke an ancient form of our tongue. And… Nenaroots are real?"

"They're real," Madanach confirmed, failing to keep the smile off his face at this point. "My son-in-law Cicero can do a pretty good impression of the chimes, although it might not be a good idea to encourage him. It gets old after the dozenth time."

"Hakkon's Breath," Movran whispered, staring at Madanach and then next thing Madanach knew, Movran was patting him on the back, eyes shining.

"Our lost kin, come to find us," he breathed. "The lowlanders have been encroaching on our lands for years but maybe you could change that."

"We're not fighting Ferelden for you, we already signed an agreement with them… but we could certainly arbitrate in any disputes," Madanach told him, sipping his wine. "And we can certainly offer trade and recognition. Think about it – the lowlanders here suddenly taking you seriously because of your Nord and Reachman kin."

"I'm thinking about it," Movran chuckled, hand still rubbing Madanach's back… and then starting to move unmistakeably lower.

"Tell me, do you follow the Avvar custom of opening your bed to your guests," Movran murmured. "My last marriage ran its course years ago, and if yours are like ours, they're not closed to others either."

Movran's hand curled round Madanach's far hip, pulling him closer, and Madanach gasped for breath, leaning back to look up at the big Avvar, lost for words as he realised he was definitely being chatted up.

It had been a long time since another man had pinned him down and fucked his arse. He'd certainly never been claimed and used by someone built like Movran. And his cock was twitching and he definitely definitely wanted to.

Elisif wouldn't mind. She'd understand. She'd forgive me, right? She's probably out there kissing Alistair right now.

She probably would. But the mere thought of Alistair brought other memories. Of Elisif on the last night before leaving whispering that she thought Alistair wanted to talk to him alone so why didn't he spend the night in Alistair's bed? She didn't mind, she'd have him all to herself on the road, and while she'd miss Madanach, they had their bond, didn't they? She'd still feel him.

And then Alistair gasping in surprise to see Madanach sauntering in with a washbag under his arm, but beaming in delight to see him and realise he got a whole night with him. There'd been kissing and making out and then Alistair confessing he wanted penetrative sex with Madanach but was terrified in case he hurt Madanach, and doing it the other way round was even scarier and… Madanach had talked him down from the panic attack, reassured him they didn't have to do anything like that, Madanach would still love Alistair regardless and they were definitely still a couple, and that having or not having penetrative sex wouldn't change that, and that Alistair was all the man Madanach needed.

Alistair had pouted and whispered but he wanted to, but he was scared, and Madanach had squeezed his hand and whispered there were ways of making it so that Alistair did the penetrating but Madanach controlled proceedings, would that work?

Alistair had whimpered at the thought and Madanach had grinned, told him to think about it and maybe they'd give it a go when he got back.

And if in the interim, Madanach decided to go and get laid with another man, it would confirm Alistair's anxieties that he wasn't enough, shatter his ability to ever trust or believe Madanach ever again, and break both their hearts.

No sex was worth Alistair staring at him with heartbreak and betrayal in his eyes, and so Madanach shook his head and shifted away.

"I can't," Madanach said quietly. "I'm not free to. I'm sorry."

Movran's face fell as he withdrew his hand and turned his attention back to his pint.

"I understand," Movran said, no bitterness in his voice or resentment, merely disappointment. "Your wife would be unhappy?"

"My wife would be fine with it, probably," Madanach admitted, not willing to lie… or hide Alistair's existence. "My husband on the other hand is a very jealous man. Any other man had me in his bed, he'd be down there demanding their head – or other body parts. Best if we don't. He can Shout as well."

A little embellished perhaps, but it had the desired effect. Movran stared, slapped his thigh and roared with laughter.

"You've got yourself two of them? Korth's Bones, man, do they ever give you a moment's peace?"

"I just keep smiling and do what I'm told," Madanach said, grinning as he sipped his wine. "It seems to work."

That brought more laughter and a knowing grin from Movran, and after that the tension faded as Movran put the topic aside and made no more advances, and the rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, if rather more raucously than anyone at Skyhold had really planned for. But even Avvar couldn't drink forever, and the topic came round to if there was anything the Avvar could do for the Inquisition.

"Well, Queen Anora's sent us this Fereldan Chantry sister who's fascinated by Avvar culture and in particular Tyrdda's legendary axe which she thinks she's found the resting place of, and we've had one of our scholars studying rubbings of the stones in the Hinterlands that tell the story too and… maybe you could help? Wouldn't you love to see your foremother's resting place?" Madanach asked hopefully.

Movran had raised an eyebrow at the mention of an axe, seeming rather amused by something, but then his laughter faded as he glanced at the axe on Madanach's belt and nodded.

"Perhaps. Tyrdda's last hall is a secret known to few in these days. Our people might gain strength from its finding. Very well, if the expedition reports in to you. The lowlander Chantry does not get to roam our ancestral tombs unsupervised. Send scholars and soldiers of your own, and we will match them."

So off they all set, and Movran's people departed too, with a promise to spread the word of the Dovahkiin Herald, Blessed by Kyne, and also details of a few Venatori trails to follow, and all in all Corypheus's agents were about to get a nasty shock in the form of clans of Avvar warriors descending on them.

It was only after they'd all left that Madanach found himself flagged down by Liriel, who'd been ensconced in the reading room in the basement for the last week, and was furious to discover she'd missed not only the expedition departure but Actual Avvar.

"Gods damn it!" Liriel sighed. "You mean they could have helped confirm my translations?"

"I highly doubt it, Movran did not bring any scholars with him and we found out not a one of them can read," Madanach said, glancing up from the war table. "Being able to read and write is considered akin to witchcraft among Avvar. There's a few who've learnt, and mages tend to get taught, but most of 'em? Would use the books to wipe with – Liriel, stop it. It's a perfectly normal bodily function."

Liriel closed her eyes, seeming to flinch at the mention of bodily functions for some reason.

"You can't treat books like that," Liriel said firmly. "It's disrespectful. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I've been examining the rubbings that Sister Guerrin was convinced were mostly untranslatable, and I got somewhere! Look! Have a look at this one!"

Madanach looked… and realised what Liriel was getting at. Three distinct sections, and the alphabets were not the same in all three. And while one was unknown to him, he knew the other two on sight.

"The one at the bottom is the runes associated with traditional ritual Avvar carvings," Liriel explained. "They're believed magical in nature by the Avvar themselves, but they're the only thing close to an alphabet they've got today. Sister Dorcas is familiar with the runes and her translation would be the version of Tyrdda's legend you've already seen… but she had no idea what the other bits even were, she'd never seen them before. She was fascinated that there might be unknown ancient Avvar alphabets out there."

Madanach couldn't take his eyes off the painstakingly inked copy of the original charcoal rubbing, and saw what Liriel saw. He couldn't read the runic section, and he couldn't read the top section either… but he'd once had to painstakingly ink several inscriptions in the same alphabet down, working from rubbings done by his people, all the while cursing that the bloody Nord queen had better appreciate all this work, he was literally only doing this because she was pretty. And as for the second section… all Reachmen recognised those letters, even if they couldn't read them (Madanach for one hadn't really ever bothered, not when Keirine was always on hand to do it for him).

"How the fuck did Dovahzul and Daedric inscriptions make their way over here," Madanach said roughly, but in his heart, both he and Liriel knew the answer. Because the Avvar's Nordic ancestors had at least one person with them who knew the languages… or the letters at least.

"They came from Tamriel, they must have done," Liriel whispered. "I know the dragon alphabet, if not the language, I transcribed it. And it turns out that section isn't actually in Dovahzul, they just borrowed the alphabet because it's easy to carve into rocks. When I started work on the first section… Madanach, the alphabet's Dovahzul but the language is Tamrielic. An older form of it, and it's the Nordic dialect so it's riddled with kennings, but it's Tamrielic, look, it reads 'sing of the legend of Tyrdda Fire-Haft'. Or possibly Tyrdda Fire-Shaft. The ancient Nords apparently used the two words fairly interchangeably, but it doesn't matter! The point is, we can read this! Without a translator! And a few oddities aside, it matches up with Dorcas's version from the runes!"

Madanach felt his heart skip, because this was it, this was the proof, Dorcas had already sent a preliminary report to Anora and various other scholarly contacts including various Chantry scholars and secular ones at universities in both Orlais and the Free Marches. The fact that the untranslatable rest of it translated perfectly into Tamrielic if you knew the Dovahzul alphabet was undeniable proof Tamrielites had been here. And if a Dovahzul lexicon somehow got out to aid in transliteration efforts, it might be there were carvings elsewhere that used the same alphabet but a more modern Thedosian tongue. Either way, when Tamriel became officially known, Anora would have the proof she needed that the shared ancestors of Avvar and Fereldans came from there.

"We need to send this to Anora immediately," Madanach realised. "Before the expedition get back. She needs to know we've found proof of a link with Tamriel. I can see Daedra being active on both continents and teaching the alphabet, but not someone borrowing the dragon alphabet to write in Tamrielic."

"We found more than that," Liriel said quietly, one hand reaching to stop his before he could pick the quill up. "I transliterated the second section too. It isn't Daedric, it's another language borrowing the Daedric letters, and it's not in Tamrielic or the runic ancient Alamarri tongue. I don't pretend to be an expert in the language in question but if I told you the first line was 'Siara y narn y Tyrdda Tan-Rhod, mynyth lunwyr, Daidra-Briod', what would you make of it?"

Madanach quietly cursed Elisif for not putting any chairs in this damn room, because he could feel his vision blurring and he really wanted to sit down, because this was too much. Movran knowing what Nirnroot Jenever was even if he thought it just a tale was one thing, but hearing the ancestral tongue of the Reach was something else entirely.

"Tell the tale of Tyrdda Fire-Staff, mountain maker, Daedra's Bride," Madanach whispered, feeling tears in his eyes at the knowledge that there had been Reachmen there too, and they'd been valued enough that their language had been included too. A version in Nordic, a version in Rhanic, and one in the Alamarri the Avvar would have spoken in their daily lives, honouring old tongues and new. "We were there too."

And we were allies, friends… one people. We weren't enemies, not the ones who came here.

We're not fated to fight.

Madanach had never wanted to run and find his wife so much, to go and tell her they'd done the right thing, that he loved her more than ever because it turned out they weren't the first Nord and Reachman to ally and make a success of it, and if it had happened once, it could happen again. Because Avvar dreamed of a Sovngarde with Nirnroot Jenever on tap, and they valued their mages and Movran had drunkenly told him that a short Avvar was generally held to be resistant to magic and either completely incapable of casting a spell or a bloody magical genius, which was Madanach? He'd just grinned and held up a hand with a fire spell in it, and the look on Movran's face had almost tempted him to change his mind about that earlier offer of his… until he accidentally set fire to the tablecloth and spent the next five minutes dowsing the table in ice to get the flames out while every Avvar in the room roared with laughter and cheered. Josephine had not been pleased with him, but the keep had survived, and it had only cemented Avvar approval of the Inquisition.

The Avvar were children of Nord and Reachman, as were the Fereldans, which meant so was Alistair, which meant he was pretty much meant to be together with Madanach and Elisif, in Madanach's opinion anyway.

But his lovers were not here which meant he couldn't run to them and tell them, so he settled for looking up at Liriel too, seeing she was as excited as he was.

"You were!" Liriel gasped, eyes shining. "And just think, half your language has been lost to the years, think what we could reconstruct of it from these carvings alone! And if we find others…!"

The Reach-tongue could well be about to get a whole shot in the arm from this. He could hardly wait to tell Kaie. Not to mention Eola… if he could get her away from her experiments long enough.

But Liriel still looked puzzled about something.

"Tyrdda Tan-Rhod, you said it meant Tyrdda Fire-Staff," Liriel said, frowning. "As in, a mage's staff? You're sure about that?"

"Definitely, things a Matriarch might ask you to fetch for them tend to be fairly unambiguous and that particular word has survived the years," Madanach said, and then it occurred to him that Sister Dorcas had insisted that all known translations of the story were agreed that Tyrdda's name was Bright-Axe and that her translation definitely meant a crystal tipped axe with some manner of fire enchantment.

"Are we sure she translated that part right?" Madanach asked sceptically. "What Tamrielic word was it, shaft or haft?"

"Could be either, as I said, the Nords used the same word for an axe's haft and a staff's shaft," Liriel admitted. "But if you're sure the Rhanic version definitely means staff..."

"Of course I'm sure, we use a completely different word for axe!" Madanach cried. "Sithis, Liriel, I have to write to Anora today, tell her all this. This is what'll prove your translations are right, us contacting Anora and the rest of the world, and pointing out the traditional translations all say axe, but ours indicate Tyrdda's weapon was a mage's staff. And it needs to be out there before Dorcas and company get back with the actual weapon. Which will be a staff, because look at the rest of the poem, Tyrdda talks to spirits, summons fire when she's angry, calls lightning out of the sky to kill a dragon at one point. You might say it's her patron spirit's powers, but how many non-mages have one of those? Liriel, this is the tale of a good and wise leader who was fearless in battle, did the right thing, treated dwarves on the same level as humans, saved her people, fought allies of the Tevinters who were trying to break into the Fade… and she was a mage. Sithis, no wonder the Chantry missed that, they'd have destroyed all copies if they'd suspected the truth. We need to get this out there."

"I'll round up some apprentices and have them scribing copies," Liriel promised, grinning. "Queen Anora, that Kenric fellow from Starkhaven, a copy for Dorcas when she gets back, and do you think the University of Orlais will be interested?"

Given that the Chantry had tried to use the University as a scapegoat for just about anything they could blame secular education for after the Divine's death, a practice only stopped once the Inquisition stepped in to help, Madanach decided they more than deserved to know. The fact the paper would be co-authored between the Deputy Inquisitor and an elven scholar, and the elf as first author no less, just made it all the sweeter.

"Get a copy for Dorian as well, he probably knows someone in Tevinter who would love this," Madanach said, gleefully contemplating the possibilities. As Liriel giggled and ran off to start arranging all this, Madanach turned his attention back to the war table. Thedas was about to get a long-needed kick up the backside.


Much to do, copying to arrange and it was nearly a week of solid work before Liriel was finally finished. Madanach signed off and approved the final copies, and soon they were being sent off to various interested parties, with the authors listed as Liriel of Alinor and Madanach ap Caradach, Deputy Inquisitor, with an added note from Madanach that the Inquisitor had taken a personal interest in this and would look forward to reading the responses.

Leliana had read a copy, shown it to Josephine and both women had shaken their heads and told her they hoped Madanach knew what he was doing because the Chantry would have a fit.

Liriel didn't care, and Madanach had just grinned and told them it was speculation at best at the present, but when the expedition returned with Tyrdda Tan-Rhod's mage staff, he'd be happy to discuss it further.

Josephine had sighed and started drafting letters telling people this was just a pet hobby of the Deputy Inquisitor's with no supporting evidence at the present time and not to worry about it too much. Madanach had just shot Liriel a wink and told her to go and have a few days off, she'd earned it.

So she'd gone to the tavern for a celebratory drink, completely forgetting it was the de facto home of the one person she'd been trying to avoid.

"TAM! THERE YOU ARE!"

It was all Liriel could do not to turn around and run, and she couldn't stop the panic from showing. Mercifully, Bull noticed and stopped in his tracks.

"Tam – I mean, Liriel. Er. Look, you don't need to worry. I won't touch you. Only… could we talk? In private? Because right now it's awkward, and I hate when things are awkward. I mean, if you want me to leave you alone, I will, but we're going to keep running into each other. Seems to me we should at least try and clear the air."

He had a point. So Liriel did her best to still her nerves and followed him up to the ramparts to get a bit of privacy… but with enough people in the distance who'd come running if she screamed.

"So, what did you want?" Liriel asked, leaning on the parapet, hands together in front of her, not actually threatening but capable of casting if she needed to. "I – I'm not looking for anyone..."

"I know," Bull said gently, standing a foot away and adopting the same position. Liriel wondered if that was part of Ben-Hassrath training, an attempt to put someone else at ease. It wasn't entirely working but she was glad he was safely over there. "You're maraas shokari. One who does not struggle. They're considered blessed under the Qun. They're not common, which is why I didn't see it at first. But you're definitely acting like one. I'm sorry, Liriel. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know that we don't have to do anything in bed if you don't want."

Liriel hadn't expected to feel as relieved as she did on hearing that, exhaling without realising it as the tension fell out of her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispered, and she was surprised to feel a little disappointment along with the relief. Because she did like him and she enjoyed his company and no one else ever gave her any trouble when he was around (although Solas didn't approve) and there was something about those shoulders that made her want to cuddle him and not let go.

But the thought of actual penetrative sex made her feel sick inside. Even with Bull. And he probably knew that, and… he was probably letting her go, wasn't he.

"Thank you for letting me know," she said softly, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I'm..."

Not what you want. Can't give you what you need. Broken.

A hand on her back as she turned away, gently steering her back to face him, and Liriel saw that he had a very strange look on his face that she couldn't figure out at all.

"You got nothing to be sorry for, Tam," Bull said, voice still kind and gentle. "And I don't think you understood me. We don't have to have sex… but I'd still like to see you. Like I said, maraas shokari, they're admired under the Qun. They can focus on their role without getting distracted by physical urges. Most of us can't quite manage that, which is why there's Tamassrans to deal with the problem. But people like you don't need that. And that's a good thing."

Liriel was fairly sure she didn't believe him. Besides, she didn't live under the Qun, and she was more than her role anyway. She wanted someone who loved Liriel, not someone who admired the scholar.

"And that's going to be a comfort to you when you've got urges and I can't do anything about them?" Liriel snapped. "Seriously, Bull, how on earth do you think this is even going to work? Cicero said sex is your favourite recreational activity next to drinking and killing things! Why would you even want someone who can't give you that?"

"Because you're awesome, Tam!" Bull cried, throwing up his hands as he let her go. "Because one minute you're playing with Maia, and the next you're setting fire to shit! Because half the time you've got your head stuck in a book, but when you start talking about your work, your face just lights up and I could listen to you for hours. Because you're bright and you're brave and… I just like you, you know? So how about we share a few drinks and kill things instead? And if all you want physically is kissing and cuddling, I can do that. Qunari love our friends like anyone, but we don't have sex with them. This'd be like that."

"A bit more than that, I'd hope!" Liriel said, surprised at herself, and sure she was blushing. Because she wasn't that sort of elf and it'd never work, surely? He'd be off with someone else before she knew it. Wouldn't she be better off waiting for some handsome elf with skills in magic who she could talk to about magical things and scholarships and discoveries and the like, and the sex wouldn't matter because of the spiritual connection?

Like Solas. He could offer you that.

He could, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised she didn't want Solas. She'd share a discovery and rather than admire her or ask her questions, he'd deftly and subtly change the subject until it came round to something he was knowledgeable on. Always he seemed happiest when discoursing on the Fade or ancient elves, and in such a way as to make it clear he was the expert here, no one else could ever have his knowledge. He'd ask about Alinor, true, but Liriel didn't want to talk about Alinor, Alinor was messed-up and dysfunctional and obsessed with elven supremacy, and the more time Liriel spent away from the place, the more she realised it was a glittering hellhole. But Solas seemed to think it was some sort of elven Utopia no matter what she told him.

He's the sort of partner I should want and I feel nothing for him. Whereas Bull…

Bull was a loud, proud Qunari whose main interests were drinking and fighting, and by all right she should be repelled by him, but the thing was, she wasn't. He made her laugh. He made her feel… something. And the Chargers liked her too. They were the only group in the Inquisition who never made her feel like an outsider.

Bull's a Ben-Hassrath, he'll leave as soon as the Qun demands it. You can't trust him.

But the Qun was far away and from what Bull had said before, he was OK with that, at least in the short-term.

So perhaps it wouldn't last. That wasn't a reason to say no, just a reason to be careful. And Bull had laughed and put his arm round her, pulling her to him and kissing the top of her head, clearly sensing a yes somewhere in all this.

"I'm into giving my partners what they need," Bull murmured. "Some need to be in charge, some need to give up control, some need pleasure, some need pain… and some don't need any of that, they just need reminding to eat and drink and spend time with other people. Sound good to you, Tam?"

"I..." Liriel looked up at him, seeing scars and an eye-patch and suddenly wanting to know more about how he got them and what he'd done for the Qun. She already knew they didn't treat their mages well.

"I'm a mage. That doesn't bother you?"

The briefest pause before Bull shook his head.

"Nah. I mean, it'd be a problem if Thedas fell to the Qun… but I don't think that'll happen any time soon. Anyway, if that happened, you could go back to Alinor, right?"

Liriel wasn't anything so sure about that. The main reason she'd left in the first place was increasing disillusion with her homeland and a growing unwillingness to just keep quiet about it all… and then a quiet warning from her brother that the Dominion higher-ups were revisiting a few wartime records, including hers, and maybe now was the time to pester their parents for a study visa in Cyrodiil. A few days later, The Beautiful had blown up an archival building in the night, and Liriel hadn't wasted time. It had been off to Cyrodiil a few weeks later, and a few misadventures after that, she'd ended up in the Reach. She'd never looked back.

The Thalmor hadn't seemed to be looking for her… but Liriel wasn't taking chances.

"I don't think I'll be going home any time soon," Liriel said quietly. "But there's always the Empire."

"Yeah," Bull said, eyes narrowing. "There's the Empire."

The way he said it implied he wasn't keen on the concept of Tamriel, and who could blame him? An entire other continent that didn't follow the Qun either and would fight to the last.

"I don't think Tamriel's going to invade Par Vollen either," she told him. "They're still rebuilding from the last war."

"Not the sort of thing you should be telling the Ben-Hassrath agent?" Bull said, amused. "But don't worry. I don't expect this to last forever, but while it does, you've got me. If the Qun calls me somewhere else, I'll tell you, but until then, I'm here."

It was about as much as she could expect. And truth be told, Liriel was curious. What was it like, having a partner? No one had ever seriously offered before.

Taking a deep breath, Liriel leaned up and kissed Bull, lips meeting his, and Bull grinned and responded, one hand on her shoulders and one sliding down to her backside as he lifted her off her feet. Liriel gasped and broke off the kiss, clinging on to him for dear life, and Bull, damn him, laughed and put her down.

"Dinner and drinks in the tavern tonight?" Bull said, grinning. "You can tell me what you've been puzzling over all week. Some sort of academic paper?"

"Yes," Liriel said, gasping for breath because despite everything that had been exciting. Damn him. "I will tell you all about it. Tonight. And if you tell me something in return. Tell me how you lost the eye."

"I'll tell you," Bull promised. "Tonight."

He kissed her on the cheek and left her to her thoughts, which thanks to Bull, were now less about Avvar history and more to do with solid muscle up against her and hands on her backside. Mara's mercy, no one ever touched her there.

The fact that she wanted Bull to do it again disturbed her. Everything about this should disturb her.

But she had a date tonight, and despite her reservations, Liriel was happy.


A/N: Liriel and Iron Bull are going to be an unusual pairing but I think it could work. Next chapter is the actual date and you're getting a double-post because I wanted this section out of the way.